


gotta wake up (come back to life)

by itsmcs



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Movie Star AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-19 11:35:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmcs/pseuds/itsmcs
Summary: Villanelle is a movie star. Eve works in a café.One day, Villanelle finds herself in the staff room of that very same café.(halsey stans peep the halsey lyrics in the title)





	1. I like coffee

Villanelle had not planned this very well. But then again, she never did, did she? As she hastily weaved her way through the crowd, pushing past the growing hubbub as more and more people recognised her, she could practically hear Konstantin’s usual reprimands. _You need to be more responsible. You have an image to maintain. You can’t keep feeding the paparazzi._ Screw that. Villanelle wasn’t going to let them keep her from living her life.

Nevertheless, that motto often came back to bite her in the ass.

Villanelle was unfamiliar with this part of London, so it wasn’t long until she found herself cornered, having skidded into a dead-ended alleyway. _Shit_. She could hear the paparazzi, moments away, clammy fingers poised on camera triggers and shoulders hunched in expectation. Konstantin was going to _kill_ her. It was then that, suddenly, almost miraculously, a door to Villanelle’s side swung open, revealing an Asian woman (with _amazing_ hair, Villanelle might add.) Without thinking (though she didn’t really regard the consequences of much, these days), Villanelle barrelled forward, hooking one hand around the woman’s arm to tug her backwards and using her other to pull the door shut. She let her hand fall and leant against the door, breathing heavily.

The woman stepped back, fixing Villanelle with an affronted stare and crossing her arms. Villanelle, in response, just grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry about that.” She declared in her lilting Russian accent, and shrugged nonchalantly. “Cornered by paparazzi.”

She spoke smoothly, as though such a predicament was natural. The woman opposite her just raised her eyebrows. If she recognised Villanelle, she gave no hint of it, and that certainly made a change. Over the past three years, Villanelle had skyrocketed into the public eye; the movie franchise she starred in – ‘Vanquish’ – was loved by teens and adults across the globe. In fact, filming for the third and final movie was currently taking place, and Villanelle felt as though she was being hauled into studios for photoshoots every other week. Her face was everywhere; magazines, billboards, buses – even she was almost sick of herself. (Okay, that’s a lie.) But she was so used to being fawned over, now, that the woman’s abrupt nature was almost jarring. (Perhaps in a good way.)

“You can’t just grab people.” The woman scowled.

“I know. Believe me, I am all about consent.” Villanelle smirked, shifting slightly to lean on the arm of a sofa.

The woman just shook her head, checking her watch. “How long do you need to stay?” Outside, the paparazzi were still clamouring.

“I will call my manager; he’ll send a car. It should not be too long.”

The woman nodded, biting her lip. Villanelle took the moment to appraise her; noting the distinct alertness to her gaze, the fullness of her lips, the furrow to her brow. These features were accentuated even further by the dark curls framing her face. Villanelle almost let out a whine of disapproval as she pulled a hair tie from her wrist, moving to tie it up.

“Right,” Villanelle tore her gaze away and shifted her weight onto her feet. “I will call Konstantin.”

He picked up immediately. “Konstantin!” She called out, all false cheer.

“Villanelle, what the _hell_ are you playing at this time?” He scorned. “Why are there pictures online of you coming out of a _tattoo_ studio?”

“I could not help myself.” Villanelle shrugged. “But it’s okay now, I am safe. Can you send Marco to come and get me?”

“Send me your location. We are _not_ done talking about this.”

He hung up, and Villanelle made a face at her phone, before sending her location.

“My manager is not happy.” Villanelle chuckled, and settled herself into the seat of the sofa she had been perched against.

“No wonder.” There was a long pause. “Look, I should get back to work…” The suggestion lingered in the air.

“Ah, yes. Speaking of, what is this place?” Villanelle glanced around.

The room was bare; furnished with two worn beige sofas and a clumsily placed table, it was neither clinical nor homely.

“The staff room. For my coffee shop.”

“Your coffee shop?”

“I co-own it.”

“With who?”

“My friend, Jess.”

Villanelle hummed appreciatively. “I like coffee.”

“Good to know.”

Her tone was bordering on sharp, so Villanelle leant forward, her feet planted apart and her forearms resting comfortably upon her thighs.

“Do you know who I am?”

The woman hesitated for a moment. Then – “of course I do. Your face is everywhere.” She seemed to immediately regret that comment, her cheeks colouring slightly. It was kind of adorable.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” Villanelle tilted her head in an almost puppy-like fashion.

“No, I –” The woman seemed to be losing her composure now, and Villanelle leaned into it. Which was, of course, when her phone sounded.

She picked up agitatedly. “Yes?”

“Marco is outside with the car. He says there are less paparazzi now, but you’re still going to have to make a run for it.”

She let out a sigh. She had been beginning to enjoy the back-and-forth. “Okay. Love you, Konstantin!”

Konstantin huffed in response and hung up.

Villanelle pulled the phone away from her ear. “Love you too, Villanelle!” She mimicked.

The woman opposite her raised a bewildered eyebrow. Villanelle decided not to satisfy it with an explanation.

“Right, well I’m off. It was nice meeting you…” She trailed off.

The woman dithered for a moment. “Eve.”

“Eve.” Villanelle tested the name on her tongue, catching her gaze. “Bye, Eve.”

Then she was gone.

…

Eve stepped into the coffee shop, pushing the staff room door shut behind her and letting out a slow exhale.

Elena waved her over. “Have you seen the raucous outside? I wonder what that’s all about.”

Eve let out a short laugh. “I – think I know.”

“You what?”

“I – um – Villanelle.”

Elena’s eyes widened almost comically. “Villanelle? Villanelle as in movie star Villanelle? As in my biggest girl crush aside from Kenny’s mother? As in gorgeous Russian hot shot actress? Is outside?”

“Was outside. Was inside, actually.”

Elena’s jaw dropped. “Eve.” She took Eve’s face in her hands. “Are you shitting me?”

“I – no. I was going out for my break and she just kind of pushed me back inside.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”

Eve grasped Elena’s wrists, moving her hands from her cheeks so she could busy herself with the coffee machine. “Come on, Elena. You know I don’t get the fuss around her. And she was just as I’d expected, arrogant with a superiority complex.”

“You were with her for _ten minutes_ Eve, if that. You can’t have made that kind of judgement.”

“I can and I have.” Eve paused, her hands stilling. “Though, I may have been a bit rude too…”

Elena fixed Eve with a look of despair, turned around, and slumped onto the counter. She groaned.

“I can’t believe this. Are you sure you’re not shitting me Eve? You swear?”

“Elena, why would I lie about this?”

Elena let out a high-pitched wail, sending their one customer, who had been settled in the corner with a book, out of the café in a hurry.

“_Elena_. You’re scaring away customers.”

“_DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE?_”

“What is going on here?” Hugo stumbled inelegantly into the coffee shop, his apron slung over his arm. He looked thoroughly hungover.

“Hugo, you’re late.” Eve sighed, turning to stack some mugs.

“SHE –” Elena jabbed an accusatory finger at Eve, “WAS RUDE TO VILLANELLE.”

Hugo put a hand to his head, wincing. “Inside voices, please.”

Eve let out an exasperated sigh. “I need a break.”

“You just had your break.”

“I need another one.”

As soon as Eve was in the staff room she sank into the sofa, before registering the lingering warmth to the seat. This was where Villanelle had sat.

She hadn’t been lying – she didn’t like Villanelle. She seemed arrogant, and ignorant, and full of herself, and as if life was just so_ easy_ for her. She could do what she wanted, and still had an adoring nation of fans. And it had _clearly_ gotten to her head.

But there was also… not jealousy. Eve wasn’t_ jealous_ of her. But she was young, and she was beautiful (who was Eve to deny that?) And she was also free. Everything that Eve saw online and in the papers showed that Villanelle didn’t care about what people thought of her. She travelled and she loved her job and she partied and she _lived_. Eve felt like she hadn’t lived in a long, long time. Sure, she had friends (well, work friends. Hugo was a bit annoying and Kenny was rather quiet and Jess was slightly, well, pregnant and Elena was a bit overbearing sometimes, but she liked them.) And she had a house, and a husband. Even if it felt as if that very same husband was maybe the reason she didn’t feel as though she had lived. Niko had never wanted more than the happy married life, a stable job, (and kids, at first. Though Eve soon made it clear that there was no way in hell that was happening.) And for many people, that was all the life they needed. So, Eve tried to be like them. She tried to fold herself up and fit into that box.

So maybe she didn’t like Villanelle because she represented what Eve couldn’t be.

But she was also arrogant. _And_ irresponsible.

Eve let out a long, slow sigh. She needed to calm down and stop thinking so much.

It’s not like she would see Villanelle again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Don't forget to leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed :)


	2. who is you-know-who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos and lovely comments on Chapter 1! I'm so glad y'all like the premise of the story, and enjoyed the first chapter. Chapter 2 let's gooo.

When Eve got home later that evening, Niko was sat on the couch watching the news.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He called out, as she slung her coat and bag over the stair bannister and wandered into the living room.

“Hi, darling.” She leaned forward so he could give her a kiss on the cheek, his wiry moustache brushing against it.

“How was your day?”

As Niko tucked unkempt brown hair behind his ears and launched into some spiel about prime numbers and a kid called Tommy (Niko was a maths teacher), Eve poured herself a glass of wine. She nodded along and hummed at the appropriate pauses, playing the dutiful wife; only when Niko had finished his story did she look up. He was now regarding her with a condescendingly raised eyebrow.

“You’re on the wine tonight?”

Eve bristled. “Just fancied a glass.”

There was a pause, before Niko twisted his mouth into a smile. “What do you fancy for tea?”

Eve pulled the hair tie out of her hair and leaned against the counter, humming. “How about we go wild with a _takeout_?”

Niko just scoffed. “You’re funny. We’ve got left over shepherd’s pie in the fridge, so we might as well eat that.”

Eve sighed softly, taking a long gulp of wine.

“Fine.” She opened the fridge, pulling out last night’s leftovers and scraping them ungracefully onto two plates. The congealed potato and greying meat stared back at her as she haphazardly placed one in the microwave.

“Hey, I was thinking about where we should go on holiday this year –”

“Oh, yes! I checked the availability of that cottage in Bournemouth earlier, it’s free pretty much all of June.”

“Ah, maybe.” The microwave pinged, and Eve switched the plates. “How about we consider going abroad? I’ve been wanting to visit Berlin…”

“That could work out a bit pricey, couldn’t it? Don’t forget about our old age savings account.” Niko grinned as if he was joking, but Eve knew he wasn’t. She had a sudden, fleeting image of standing in this same room, with the same furniture, and the same shepherd’s pie, and the same man, 30 years on. She could almost feel herself aging. This fucking _conversation _was aging her.

She could argue but – this day had already drained her; she couldn’t be dealing with that right now. She’d bring it up again another day.

“Right, sure.” The microwave pinged again. Eve took the plate out, pulling two forks from the cutlery drawer and trying not to place them on the plates with too much force.

“Food’s done.” Eve carried the leftovers to the sofa.

“Thanks, my love.” Niko said, almost dotingly.

Eve didn’t answer. Instead, cat-like eyes flashed at the back of her mind.

…

When the bus pulled up to the stop the next morning, Eve looked up from her phone and almost let out a groan. Displayed on the side was a colossal print of Villanelle’s face. She was standing sideways but looking directly at the camera, eyes sparkling somewhat, as if she knew something the camera person didn’t. Then there was that smirk. _That goddamned smirk._ Eve was snapped out of her daze by the driver – “you getting on or what?” Eve nodded apologetically, distractedly pulling her purse out of her bag and stepping on to the bus. “Sorry.” She muttered, handing over a £10 note. “I’m not with it today.”

Eve had secretly hoped work would provide an escape from the women that infiltrated her thoughts but she could not have been more wrong. Villanelle was all Elena could seem to talk about. As Eve sprinkled cocoa shavings on a man’s hot chocolate – “here you go, have a nice day!” – Elena babbled on and on. “Once, I saw her from a distance while I was taking Kenny his lunch.” (Kenny, Elena’s boyfriend and a part-time worker at the coffee shop, was interning on set of Villanelle’s new movie – a position courtesy of his mother, who was in fact producing it. Kenny hadn’t even officially met Villanelle yet, but Elena was _very _excited about having spotted her from a distance.) “She was even _hotter _in person. But you would know, wouldn’t you Eve?”

Eve just rolled her eyes, and moved to serve the next person. “Good morning.”

“Hi. Who are you talking about?” The woman spoke with a subdued Scottish accent.

“Oh – no-one, sorry.” Eve smiled, pressing a few buttons on the till. She looked up, expecting to meet the woman’s eyes, but instead being met with her own reflection in enormous sunglasses. “What can I get you?”

The woman pursed her lips thoughtfully. “What would you recommend?”

“Oh – er – my go-to is a good old americano. But we have lattes, cappuccinos, flat whites… I would recommend them with coconut milk, actually, sweet but not sugary.”

“I’m going to go on my break now, Eve.” Elena called. “We will resume our conversation about _you-know-who _later.” She waggled her eyebrows.

Eve groaned. “See you in 15.”

The door slammed shut behind her.

“I’ll get an americano, then, with coconut milk.”

Eve smiled slightly. “Good choice. To have in or take away?”

“Take away.”

“Can I get a name?” Eve picked up a cup and a pen, poised to write.

“I don’t know, can you?”

Eve frowned, and looked up.

Straight into the eyes of someone _very _familiar.

Villanelle smirked. “Hi, Eve.”

“I –“ Eve was lost for words. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you spoke so _passionately _about your coffee, I just knew I had to try it.” Villanelle declared sarcastically, the Scottish accent dropped.

Eve shook her head, scribbling ‘V’ onto the cup and shifting to make the coffee. Villanelle sidled along so they could continue their conversation.

Eve glanced at her. She looked – young. Untouched by fame, (if Eve disregarded the unnecessarily extravagant outfit.) Her face was fresh and her skin dewy, with a few small freckles scattered across high cheekbones. Her eyebrows were both untamed and impeccably arched over seemingly innocent eyes. Eve tore her eyes away. “You’re going to bring the paparazzi out again.”

“What, you weren’t convinced by my disguise?” Villanelle slunk, chameleon-like, back into the Scottish accent, and momentarily pushed the sunglasses back up her nose. The pretence was completed by a cropped brunette wig. “Do you think I look good as a brunette?”

_You always look good. _Eve stopped abruptly. She could not say that. Instead, she turned away from Villanelle, pouring coffee into the cup and denying her an answer (out loud.) There was a pause.

“So…” Villanelle trailed off, leaned against the counter. “Who is _you-know-who_?”

“None of your business.” Eve placed a lid on the cup.

“You know, Eve, you should be nicer to your _customers._”

Eve turned back, coffee clutched in her outstretched hand, and plastered on the fakest smile she could muster. “Have a nice day.”

Villanelle cocked her head, eyes never leaving Eve’s. “Why don’t you like me?”

Eve was taken aback by the upfront question. Though she shouldn’t have been surprised, really. Villanelle was anything but subtle.

“I- I don’t not like you.”

“Ah yes, you seem thrilled to have me here.” If Eve didn’t know better, she’d say Villanelle seemed almost hurt.

So she sighed, putting the coffee down on the counter, and briefly burying her head in her hands. “Look, I’m sorry. You just – keep taking me by surprise.” _And I crave what you have. Your freedom. It’s what I gave up when I married my husband and settled down to co-run a painfully unsuccessful coffee shop. I hardly even fucking drink coffee. _

Villanelle looked at her, studied her. Eve felt uncomfortably open, as if the woman could peel open her shell and expose all her secrets from just one look. Moments later, her gaze seemed to settle.

“Okay.” Villanelle said.

“Okay? What does that mean?”

“It means that is okay.” She picked up the coffee from the counter. “Look, I don’t want to take you by _surprise _again.” Eve let out a huff. “But I want to take you out.” Villanelle seemed to notice Eve’s eyes widen. “_Platonically_. As a thank you for yesterday. I promise we’ll avoid the paparazzi.”

“Oh – no. Thank you.” Eve shook her head. “I’m busy.”

Villanelle laughed lightly. “I didn’t even say when I wanted to take you out.”

Eve shuffled awkwardly. “I’m just –”

“When was the last time you did something spontaneous, Eve?”

Eve paused. She couldn’t remember. Instead, her thoughts flew back to her conversation with Niko last night, and his crushing inability to welcome spontaneity.

“When?”

“Tomorrow night?”

Before Eve let her brain catch up and stop her – “okay.”

Villanelle grinned. Then, maintaining eye contact, she took a sip from her coffee. Her smile widened. “It’s good.”

Eve ducked her head.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll come here to pick you up – when do you finish?”

“At 8.”

“See you at 8.”

Villanelle took another slow sip of her drink and placed her sunglasses back on her nose, before turning around. Eve would be lying if she said she didn’t watch her leave.

Moments later, Elena wandered back in, glancing up from her phone almost absentmindedly. “Did I miss anything?”

Eve just stared at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Don't forget to leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed :)


	3. I do look excellent in a suit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure I'm totally happy with this chapter but I hope y'all enjoy anyway!
> 
> (btw emmys in 2 hours, how we feeling???)

At 7:45 the next day, Eve was panicking. Why the hell did she agree to this? The café had emptied, aside from Eve, Elena and Jess. The latter two were sat at a table, while Eve was frantically pacing.

“She didn’t even say where we’re going – what the hell do I wear?”

“I still can’t believe this is happening.” Elena said. “Of all people this could be happening to, _you?_”

Eve stopped and fixed Elena with a glare. “Thank you, Elena. That’s really helpful.”

Jess chuckled. “Well it’s Villanelle, so suffice to say it’s likely to be somewhere fancy. Not too fancy, though, I think she would have warned you about that. What clothes did you bring?”

Eve picked up her bag from beside the counter, poured the contents onto the table and watched as Jess and Elena eyed the pile sceptically.

“Jesus Christ, woman.” Elena declared. “Did you pack your whole bloody wardrobe?”

…

15 minutes later, they had thankfully managed to assemble an outfit. Eve was wearing a pair of black corduroy trousers, ornamented with a gold chain near the pocket. She had tucked a white top into the trousers, and wore a black leather jacket. A golden chain adorned her neck, embellishing the outfit. She had decided to leave her hair down.

“I haven’t worn this jacket in about 20 years.” Eve picked at it, and a voice sounded from behind her.

“Well that is a shame. You should wear it more often.”

Eve spun around, and both Jess and Elena’s attention snapped towards the voice. Elena was positively glowing.

But Eve couldn’t draw her eyes away from Villanelle. Villanelle looked – well – stunning. She held herself in a way that exuded confidence, one hand tucked into a pocket of her moss-green velvet sleeveless jumpsuit, and the other holding the black blazer jacket that was slung over her shoulder. Her hair was slightly wavy, falling just below her collarbones, and she wore an exquisite set of bright green hoop earrings.

“I- wow.” Eve muttered, eyes flitting over her. Villanelle smirked blithely in response to Eve’s lack of composure.

“Wow is right,” Elena said, and practically leapt forward. “Hi, I’m Elena. Eve’s best friend.”

“Hey, I thought I was Eve’s best friend.” Hugo called out smarmily as he emerged from the break room, having changed out of his work clothes and into something more pub appropriate.

“You wish, Hugo.” Eve shot back.

Hugo, ever the irritatingly arrogant rich boy, strutted forwards towards Villanelle. “Hi there.” He held out a hand. “Name’s Hugo.”

Villanelle just glanced at him distastefully, blatantly ignoring the hand. “Okay?”

Jess laughed out loud. “That is your cue to leave, Hugo.”

“And don’t forget your shift starts at 7 tomorrow. _Don’t _be late again.” Eve added.

“Yeah, well you start at 7 too so maybe I should be saying the same to you.” Hugo waggled his eyebrows, and Elena all but shoved him out of the café. Villanelle took in the scene with unconcealed amusement.

After making sure Hugo had well and truly left, Elena moved back to Eve, now pushing her forward.

“Right, have fun! Stay safe!” She then whispered loudly in Eve’s ear: “if you need me to cover your shift tomorrow just drop me a text.” She winked as she pulled back.

Villanelle, evidently having heard, smirked.

“Bye Elena. It was nice to meet you. And bye – sorry, I do not know your name.”

“It’s Jess.”

“Bye, Jess!”

Elena grinned furiously as she shovelled them both out the door, shutting it behind them.

Then, they were alone.

Villanelle turned to Eve. “I like Elena.”

“She will be very happy to hear that.” Eve responded.

“I do not like Hugo.”

Eve laughed, then paused, surveying her surroundings and taking in the absurdity of the situation. She was standing on the exceedingly mundane street of her coffee shop with Villanelle, a literal movie star, beside her. A piece of rubbish fluttered past in the breeze and settled in a grotty looking drain. The contrast was bizarre.

“Hey, Eve.” Villanelle waved a hand in front of her face. “You with me?”

“I – yeah. Sorry.”

“It is fine. Come on, we should get in the car before anyone recognises me.”

Eve glanced apprehensively around at the people littered around the street. Thankfully it was autumn, so it was dark, and those passing by were walking with purpose; no one paid much attention to the two women. Suddenly, pulling her out of her daze, Villanelle’s hand was in Eve’s. Eve almost pulled back. But her palm was warm and soft, and instead Eve let her eyes linger on their intertwined fingers for a moment too long. Villanelle didn’t seem to notice, though, and she instead pulled Eve forwards towards the sleek black car parked in front of them. Mere seconds later she let go to open the door for Eve, gesturing for her to get inside.

“Such a gentleman.” Eve commented, attempting to clamber in somewhat gracefully.

“Oh, no, Eve. I am a gentle_woman_.” She shut the door.

Eve took the moment of privacy to focus on steadying her breathing, but Villanelle was soon settling herself into her seat on the other side of the car. Then, she looked at Eve with a raised eyebrow, gesturing to her unclipped seatbelt. “Safety first, Eve.”

Eve, realising she hadn’t put her seatbelt on, quickly moved to do it. God, she had to get it together. When she refocused (or tried to), Villanelle was speaking to the driver. The car soon set off.

“So where are we going?”

“It is a surprise.”

“You could be taking me somewhere to murder me for all I know.”

Villanelle gave her a toothy grin, eyes shining. “Oh, you figured out my plan.”

Logically, Eve knew that was ridiculous, but the way Villanelle was looking at her… with an almost chillingly ostentatious smile… 

Villanelle burst out laughing. “Kidding. You know, I always thought that in another life I might be an assassin. I do not really like most people so I don’t think it would weigh on my conscience too much.” She shrugged. “It is a shame I decided to pick up acting.”

Eve tilted her head. “You don’t like people, and yet you’re taking me, someone you met 2 days ago for 5 minutes, out? _I _could be a murderer for all you know.”

Villanelle smiled gaudily. “Well, that would just make you even more interesting. What can I say – you intrigued me. And you seemed bored as hell in that coffee shop so I thought I’d show you some fun.”

Eve shook her head lightly. “Hey, I’ve had fun.”

“Do share.”

“I almost went into a career in MI6. And I travelled a bit before I met my husband. I went to Rome, Paris, Russia once too.”

Villanelle leant forward. “A career in MI6, huh? What stopped you?”

Eve shrugged. “I mean, my husband thought it was a bit dangerous.” She registered Villanelle’s change in expression from one of intrigue to barely disguised disgust, and rushed to intercept. “But it wasn’t just him.” _It was mostly him. But she didn’t want Villanelle knowing about her dysfunctional marriage. She couldn’t bear for her to probe into that. _

Villanelle nodded, but still looked unconvinced. Suddenly, the car came to a halt.

“We are here.”

They both got out, and Eve looked around, scrutinising her surroundings doubtfully. They were in a compact, underground, dimly lit car park.

“Are you sure you’re not planning to kill me?” 

“I promise. It gets better, come on.” She leaned down towards the car’s front window, waving. “Thank you, Marco!”

“No worries, drop me a text when you’re done.” He smiled at her and Eve, and Eve gave an awkward nod of thanks in response. This chauffeur business was alien to her.

As he drove off, Villanelle began walking away, and Eve almost had to jog to keep up. “Slow down.” She called.

Villanelle scoffed. “It’s not my fault you are short.”

“Yeah well it’s not my fault you’re striding like a… a businesswoman.”

“A businesswoman? That is a funny comparison. I could not see myself as a businesswoman.” They reached a lift and Villanelle pressed the button. The door opened immediately. “Though I do look _excellent _in a suit.”

Eve’s coughed, and Villanelle just shot her an innocent smile.

When they reached the top of the building and the elevator door opened, the first thing Eve noticed was the music that filtered into her ears. The next thing was that she had stepped onto an almost movie-like picture. Laid out before her was a rooftop bar; to the right, was the bar itself. Drinks lined the wall, lit up with a calming blue colour, and a staff member was lining drinks up along the counter. To the left of Eve, the roof ended and the floor opened out onto a balcony. Sublime blue lights beautified the scene even further. Eve let her feet carry her forwards, towards the balcony railing.

“Holy _shit._” She breathed out. Below her, the lights of the city scintillated, a sharp contrast to the black of the night. Above her, the sky was adorned with stars.

“Do you like it?” Eve almost startled at the sound of Villanelle’s voice, but quickly relaxed into it.

“I – it’s beautiful. But what –” Eve turned around again, surveying the entirely empty dark wooden floor. “Where is everyone?”

“Oh – I hired out the whole place. Remember, I promised no paparazzi.” She smiled slightly. If Eve didn’t know better, she’d say it was tinged with nerves.

Eve laughed softly. “You have too much money.”

“You can never have too much money.” She stopped, tilted her head. “Okay, maybe you can. I think the creator of Amazon has too much money. He should be using it to do good things like – like tackling world hunger. Or the climate crisis.”

“Is that what you would do, if you had that much money?”

Villanelle paused, deep in thought, and nodded. “Yes. And I would buy a lot of clothes. Well, more clothes.”

Eve grinned at her. “Of course.”

There was a pause. “Shall we get drinks?” Villanelle gestured towards the bar.

“Sure.”

When they reached it, a smiling bartender waved towards the drinks that lined the counter.

“Where would you like to start? We have Bloody Margaret, Dry Manhattan, Blue Hawaii, Pina Colada, Tequila Sunset, Sex on the Beach… Or I can make something else?”

Villanelle smirked. “I will start with a Sex on the Beach.” She looked at Eve. “What would you like, Eve?”

Eve dithered. “I’ll have, a – um – Pina Colada?”

The bartender slid the drinks towards them. “Enjoy.”

Clutching the glasses, they made their way to a table, settling on tall chairs.

Villanelle nodded towards Eve’s drink. “Playing it safe, I see.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t had a Pina Colada a million times.”

Eve hesitated, playing with a straw and taking a sip. Of course she was right.

“Well Sex on the Beach isn’t the most original either.”

Villanelle. “What can I say? I just enjoy Sex on the Beach.” The corner of her mouth rose suggestively as she took a sip.

Eve blushed. There was _no way_ Villanelle didn’t know _exactly _what she was saying. And Eve knew Villanelle was… experienced. A bit of a player. She slept her way through women, very occasionally men, never building attachments, never staying for more than a night (according to the media, that is.) And Eve refused to just become another body, another number in a sex count.

Not that she even _could. _She was married, for fucks sake. And she hadn’t even liked Villanelle two days ago! She just wasn’t used to someone being so… upfront. That was it. 

“So, why did you choose acting?” Eve changed the subject.

Villanelle shrugged. “I wanted to get out of Russia. And I’ve always been good at it. Putting on an accent, or a persona.”

Eve nods. “Your Scottish accent yesterday… That was impressive.”

Villanelle beamed. “Thank you.”

“If you didn’t go into acting, what do you think you’d be doing? Other than murdering, of course.”

Villanelle chuckled and pondered on that for a moment. “Something to do with languages. I like speaking them.”

“How many can you speak?”

“Well Russian and English, obviously. Then French, Italian, German, and Spanish. And I’m learning Mandarin, too.”

“Jesus. I can speak a bit of Korean, but other than that…”

“Korean! You will have to teach me some day.”

“I think you should be the one teaching me!” Eve blurted out, before stopping abruptly at the implication that they would see each other again. Probably more than once. Did she want that? Had she expected that when she agreed to go out with Villanelle? She took another sip from her drink, glancing up to meet Villanelle’s eyes. This time, it was Villanelle who averted eye contact, an indiscernible smile on her face.

…

Four drinks later, it was safe to say that Eve was slightly tipsy. Okay, _very _tipsy. She laughed loudly at something Villanelle had said, resting her head on the table and keeping it there for a few moments.

“Hey, _Eve.”_ Villanelle tapped her on the head. If the slurring in her voice told Eve anything, it was that Villanelle was safely buzzed as well. Eve jolted upwards, taking one look at the startled expression on the other woman’s face and bursting out into laughter again.

Villanelle joined in for a moment, then looked between her hand and Eve’s hair.

“Are you okay?” Eve managed to get out between laughs.

Villanelle nodded slowly. “I think so.” She paused. “Have I told you that your hair is amazing?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I normally tie it up.”

“No, no, no. It is amazing. You should wear it down _all_ the time.”

Eve snorted. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

Villanelle had a childish grin on her face. “Good.”

Suddenly, she froze. “Oh my god, I love this song!” Jumping up, she ran towards the middle of the room. Eve watched her for a moment, captivated as she let her head loll, let her hips swing, let her arms sway with an almost reckless abandon. Eve knew, in the back of her mind, that she was not the first person to see Villanelle dance. That Villanelle was a partier; she probably let loose like this every weekend. But, for a moment, Eve felt like she was special.

“_Eve._” Villanelle called, waving her arms. “Come dance with me!”

“Oh, no.” Eve shook her head violently. “I don’t dance.”

“I will dance badly if it makes you feel better.” She slowed the swaying of her hips and instead started jumping up and down, doing – were those star jumps? Eve laughed again. God, she hadn’t laughed this much in fucking years.

“Fine, fine, I’ll dance, but only if you stop doing that.” She yelled out.

Villanelle looked positively ecstatic, surging forward and grabbing Eve’s hands, pulling her backwards and onto the dance floor. She let go when they got there, resuming the swaying of her hips and raising her hands above her head.

To start with, Eve just bobbed up and down where she was standing, shifting her feet mere millimetres and letting her arms hang limply by her sides.

Villanelle opened her eyes, regarding her with a frown. “What are you doing?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t dance. God, I’m too old for this.”

Suddenly hit by a bout of self-consciousness, Eve stepped back.

“No, no, no. Here.” Villanelle grabbed her hands, raising them above both of their heads and continuing the sway off her hips, pulling Eve closer to her. “Just swing your hips” – Eve moved them slightly, to the left, to the right… “Yes, that is it!”

Villanelle dropped Eve’s hands and instead rested hers on the woman’s hips, pulling them forward against her own so they could move in time. Eve felt them collide, felt their legs tangle together, felt the warmth of Villanelle’s body and the humming of the music so deeply in her veins. For a moment, she was too startled to do anything. Then, she rested her hands on Villanelle’s shoulders.

“See, Eve. You can dance.”

They moved like that for a while, flush against each other. Eve could practically hear her own heartbeat. The proximity was intoxicating. Then Villanelle leaned even further forward, whispering in Eve’s ear, her voice gravelly. “Besides, older women are sexy.”

Eve felt her breath hitch, felt a familiar stirring between her legs. _Shit. _She pulled away.

“Sorry, I- I need some air.”

She stumbled backwards, away from the dance floor and onto the balcony. The air was even crisper now, but Eve still felt as though she was on fire. Suddenly feeling a bout of nausea, she leant her arms on the balcony railing, closing her eyes tightly to curtail her spinning vision.

“Eve? Are you okay?” Villanelle kept her distance, standing a few metres away with a look on her face that could be described as both wistful and guilty.

“I’m fine, sorry, I –” As she said that, the phone in her pocket suddenly buzzed. Glancing at the time, Eve saw it was past midnight.

She picked up. “Eve.” Niko’s voice came through the speaker. “Just calling to check up on you. Are you heading home soon?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m heading back soon. Sorry.”

“You’re slurring. Are you drunk?”

“You knew I was going out with a friend, Niko. So what if I am? I’ll see you soon.”

She hung up abruptly, then looked towards Villanelle apologetically. “I’m sorry, I should really head off.”

Villanelle held up her phone. “I’m just texting Marco.”

Eve nodded. “Thank you.” She turned back towards the view. Thankfully, her vision had focused slightly; the lights were no longer nauseating.

“He’ll be here soon. We can head down to the car park and wait.”

“Sure.”

…

Villanelle insisted on walking Eve to her door, and when they reached it Eve turned to face her.

“I – thank you for this evening. I had a lot of fun.”

Villanelle smiled softly. “Me too. I haven’t let go like that in a while.”

Eve cocked her head. “But don't you party all the time?”

Villanelle laughed. “I thought you didn’t like me, how do you know so much about what I am doing?” Eve opened her mouth to argue, but Villanelle spoke again. “When I am out normally… I don’t know, it’s like I am acting. I have to be the person that people want me to be. They all have this expectation of what I should be. I guess it’s nice to not to have to live up to any expectations.”

Eve nodded. “I get that.”

A stronger gust of wind made Eve shiver, and she pulled her jacket tightly around herself. Villanelle took a step back.

“I will see you later, Eve.”

Eve watched her walk down the drive.

“Bye, Villanelle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell I just looked up cocktails on Wikipedia? hahaha
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Don't forget to leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed :)


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